


Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Snowy Girl

by DecemberAngel25 (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Implied Relationships, The Great Game Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:51:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DecemberAngel25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets an odd case on a boring February morning, with an exasperated DI and ex-army doctor in tow he is on the case once again. </p><p>“Is he up?” The detective inspector gestured to the stairs with a gloved hand.<br/>“What do you think?” John muttered, wincing when he heard what must have been a coffee mug shattering. “Not a case all week and your cold cases aren't doing it, do you have something?”<br/>“Yeah,” Lestrade chuckled airily, “This one should perk his interest, come by the cannery just off the Thames as soon as you can. We can make heads or tails of it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Snowy Girl

**Author's Note:**

> A short story I had to write for school, not my best work but completed.

Powdery white snow drifted across the London streets, creating swirling white billows that danced along the pavements. It was early February and the residents of the usually bustling metropolis were staying inside and hiding from the weather. That meant business was slow at the flat 221B Baker Street.

John was sure that Sherlock was going to burn down the flat with a new set of experiments, either that or start adding more bullet holes to that daft smiley face he’d spray painted on the wall with the leftover cans of yellow paint from the case John’s blog had affectionately called The Blind Banker. Affectionately in the way that he and his date, Sarah, had almost been killed by members of a Chinese smuggling gang that night.

Making a hot cuppa for himself and his restless companion, the morning silence was broken by a pounding on the door to the flat. Glancing over at Sherlock who was laying on the couch and hadn't even bothered to change out of his dressing gown yet, John sighed and hobbled over to the stairs opening the front door. Mrs. Hudson must have still been asleep or she would have opened it.

Upon opening the door, John found a rather frigid looking Greg Lestrade. “Morning,” He greeted conversationally.

Lestrade simply pushed past him and into the flat, unraveling his scarf slightly to speak easier. “Is he up?” The detective inspector gestured to the stairs with a gloved hand.

“What do you think?” John muttered, wincing when he heard what must have been a coffee mug shattering. “Not a case all week and your cold cases aren’t doing it, do you have something?”

“Yeah,” Lestrade chuckled airily, “This one should perk his interest, come by the cannery just off the Thames as soon as you can. We can make heads or tails of it.”

And with that he left, leaving John to go persuade the sulky consulting detective to change.

Luckily, it didn't take too much persuasion to get Sherlock out of the flat. He'd heard the whole conversation and was already collecting his things by the time John was up the stairs. Even helping John into his coat to get them out of the flat faster.

Several of the Scotland Yard’s finest are milling around when they arrived, baffled by the crime scene. There’s a car, with blood in the driver’s seat and dripped across the ground but no body.

“The car belongs to Xzavier Malkson, and the bloods from his girlfriend Yolanda Flower.” Lestrade came up to the pair, explaining the scene. “Xzavier has a strong alibi, works behind the counter at a local shop-we're getting security tapes right now. But far else he’s just a regular bloke, he even had called the police the previous evening reporting that Yolanda hadn't come home from her job. That’s the main reason we found the car.”

Sherlock made an impressed noise, still looking about the scene with a sense of superiority. “If it’s all the same to you, inspector, I’d like to take a look at the vehicle.”

Greg sighed, gesturing for Sherlock to lead the way. Just as John was about to follow he heard a familiar voice call his name. Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan.

“How‘s living with the freak? From your blog in seems like a nightmare.” She asked conversationally, coming to stand next to him.

“You read the blog then?” John grit his teeth at the way she called him ‘freak’-one of her favorite insults to the brilliant consulting detective.

“We all do,” Sally said with a sharpness to her mostly friendly voice. “But it does keep on proving that you should have taken my advice.”

“To get a hobby, fishing I believe you suggested.” John snapped back bitterly, his eyes trained on his flat mate. He’d finished up with the car and was now interrogating Xzavier-who honestly looked a bit frightened of Sherlock. But then again who wouldn't be, he had an air of importance about him paired with those piercing blue eyes.

“You should've stayed away from Sherlock Holmes.” She said stiffly, walking away from the army doctor.

“So what'd you get?” John asked when they climbed into cab, turning to Sherlock in question.

“Mr. Malkson did not kill Miss Flower,” Sherlock stated simply staring forward.

“No?”

“No, the man has a very strong alibi-being you bought milk from him last night when you ran to the shop.” The consulting detective smiled a bit, “Still we'll need to run to the morgue and look through cadavers, Molly should help us there; I’ll also run through the fingerprints again-Anderson’s running forensics; and Mr. Malkson also agreed to have my best man run through his flat.”

“Oh no, I'm not doing this again.” He glared up at Sherlock.

An hour later John was knocking on the door to the flat that was shared by Xzavier and Yolanda, still wearing several layers of warm clothing.

“Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes said to be expecting you.” The grim face of Mr. Malkson greeted him. Allowing john inside to have a look.

“Yolanda was a big fan of your blog you know?”

“Really?” John said, examining a few window sills.

“Yeah she was always going on about your cases, her and Zoey.” Distain filled the last word.

“Zoey?” John inquired, trying to sound at least mildly interested in what the bloke was saying. Next time he wasn't going to let Sherlock do this to him.

“Uh yeah, that’s her best friend-always together those two.” John hummed, testing out the bolts on the back door. “They even commented on your blog, Yolanda’s username is ‘theimprobableone’ actually.”

“I recall that one, she comment quite a bit on The Great Game.” He realized. “Well thank you for letting me poke around Mr. Malkson, I really should be going.

Being showed out, John glanced down at his phone. ‘Meet at Angelo’s at 5 –SH’ Realizing the time and that he hadn't eaten all day John was more than happy to oblige.

Getting out of the cab in front of Angelo’s restaurant, john remembered their first impromptu case that had only been a little over a year ago. Going inside, John spotted Sherlock sitting in the same booth they sat at the last time. When Sherlock didn't greet him when he sat down, John wasn't the least bit surprised. Sherlock often slipped into his ‘mind palace’ in random places, he'd come to in a moment till then John decided to order.

“Zoey Leslie.” Sherlock piped up halfway through the meal.

“Excuse me?” John wiped his hands on his napkin and looked up at Sherlock from across the table.

“Yolanda’s best friend, she’s the reason were here-she has a flat just across the street.” Sherlock nodded to the buildings he’d been observing since John arrived. “She should be- Here!” He suddenly exclaimed jumping up out of his seat and bolting out the door.

“Sherlock!” John called after him, throwing a quick tip down on the table and taking off after his friend. “What was that?” He said gasping for air once he’d caught up with him, looking after the cab that had just pulled away.

“There goes our prime subject,” Sherlock muttered disappointedly.

The two walked back to the flat from there; although Sherlock kept muttering to himself, and John wasn't paying attention as much as trying to fight the cold. Finally getting back to the flat, John wrapped up in one of his favorite jumpers and started editing his blog-seeing as there was nothing left he could do for the night.

Taking some time to read through the comments-making sure Harry didn't leave anything nasty, she had a habit; he recognized one of the commenter’s names as ‘theimprobableone’.

“Sherlock, come have a look at this.” He said turning the laptop to face the detective, explaining what he had learned at the couples flat.  
“And you're just telling me this now?” Sherlock exclaimed, nearly hopping up and down. “Call a cab, I'll text Lestrade and have him meet us at Barts.”

"Alright, Sherlock it's the middle of the night, tell us what happened." Detective Lestrade yawned.  
Sherlock gave him an look of irritation before he started explaining. "Yolanda Flowers and Xzavier Malkson had been going out happily for some time-going to each other’s social events and such. Yet Miss Flowers best friend Zoey Leslie seemed to become more and more jealous of Xzavier Malkson as time wore on, have multiple fights with him and exchanging threats-from what I've picked up from my sources. Now soon Miss Flowers had to make a decision, her best friend or her fiancé. Choosing her best friend, they put together the perfect disappearance-Yolanda drove Mr. Malkson’s car to the location where it was found, poured her previously drawn blood over the interior of the car, then was picked up by Miss Leslie. And if the flight schedule hasn't been changed-they took off for Paris 15 minutes ago." Sherlock concluded.


End file.
